


Slow Day

by guilty_pleasures_abound



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, M/M, Mystery Shack, Office Sex, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 00:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18419159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guilty_pleasures_abound/pseuds/guilty_pleasures_abound
Summary: It was a damn slow day. You could tell by the way Stan kept wandering back to the office, peering over your shoulder as you bounced back and forth between transcribing Ford's notes for him and aimless internet browsing."What's shakin', Mr Mystery?"[Gender neutral reader]





	Slow Day

**Author's Note:**

> Gender neutral reader, since this is more about the amazing blow job you're about to give Stan than anything else. Post-canon, the following summer.

It was a damn slow day. You could tell by the way Stan kept wandering back to the office, peering over your shoulder as you bounced back and forth between transcribing Ford's notes for him and aimless internet browsing.

“What's shakin’, Mr Mystery?” you asked him the fourth time he came in, looking restless and agitated, passing his 8-ball cane from hand to hand and sighing loudly.

“Soos picked a hell of a day to take off.” He sighed again, perching on the edge of the desk by your elbow with a frown. “Damn boring today.”

“Spoiled,” you chuckled, rolling the desk chair over to the scanner so you could digitize the detailed drawing of an giant armored shark Ford had done to accompany his notes. “Too good for the Shack now, huh? Too used to constant adventure?”

He chuffed, tilting his head back as he crossed his arms. “You're damn right. Saved the world, battled sea monsters, found a fucking museum's worth of lost treasure—” he ticked off each accomplishment on his hand, “—I'd say that's earned me the right to be underwhelmed by my old business.”

You rolled back to the desk with a laugh, shaking your head a little. “Yep. Spoiled.”

“Didn't see you complaining when you were getting giddy with Ford over lava monsters in Hawaii.”

He wasn't _wrong_ , but you stuck your tongue out at him anyway, his gruff laugh accompanied by a good-natured nudge to your hip with the end of his cane. “You know I'm right, toots.”

“I'm still not the one complaining about a slow day, I've found a way to keep myself occupied.”

“You two and your nerd notes. Where is Ford, anyway?”

“He and Dipper went over to Fiddleford's. Seemed excited about some sort of dinosaur robot.”

“...like a dino _fighting_ robot or a robot that looks like a dinosaur?”

“They didn't say.”

“Yeesh. Did Mabel go with them?”

“Nope, off with Candy and Grenda to the movies. Some cheesy teen romcom, unsurprisingly.”

“Huh. So... just you and me at the Shack today, then?”

You knew that tone. That was a tone of pure mischief.

“Technically you, me, and Wendy.”

He gave a dismissive _“pft”_ and wave of his hand. “Wendy barely counts, she's been reading magazines at the gift shop counter all morning. It's like pullin’ teeth getting that girl to do anything beyond ringing up.”

You chortled, flipping to the next page in Ford's notes.

“Anyway,” he continued, “the point is, I doubt she's going to move for anything less than a wildfire suddenly ripping through the shop.”

You gave a noncommittal hum, squinting at a slightly smudged note on the page, trying to decipher Ford's anecdote on how the tides affected the giant armored shark.

Of course you knew what Stan was _actually_ fishing for, he wasn't a terribly subtle person to begin with, but you knew him well enough by then for it to be glaringly obvious. Making him work for it a little bit was part of the fun.

You suddenly found your chair being rolled out from the desk by Stan's foot, his cane coming up to bar your arms from reaching for the edge of the wood to stop the movement, and you gave him a little pout.

“What?” you asked innocently. “I’m busy.”

“You seriously tellin’ me typin’ up Ford’s nerd notes is better than talking to me?” He almost sounded hurt, his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth in an irritated frown.

“I didn’t say _that_ , I just said I’m busy.” You trailed your fingers up the length of the cane to his hand, giving him a little grin. “Why, you got something better for me to do?”

It was obvious bait and you both knew it, but Stan didn't seem to care as he set his cane on the desk before leaning over to pull your chair closer with a lecherous grin starting to creep across his mouth.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured assuredly, resting his palms on the armrests as he smiled cheekily at you. “I can think of a few.”

An amused shake of your head and a little giggle, then you were leaning up to kiss him, your hands going to his cheeks gently and cupping his face just to feel the light scratch of his stubble against your palms.

“Have I mentioned how good you look in this suit?” you murmured, fingers sliding down to pet over his collar, and he gave an amused huff.

“Hm, I dunno...” he hummed thoughtfully, kissing you again with a little smile on his lips. “How good do I look, doll?”

“Goddamn sexy,” you answered honestly, moving from his collar to his chest appreciatively, earning you a soft rumble of sound from him that made a bubble of pride form in your chest. “On a scale of one to ten, you'd score a fifteen, easily.”

He laughed, his delight in your compliment clear in the next kiss he pressed to your lips, as well as the squeeze of his hands against your sides, releasing his grip on the arms of the chair in favor of touching you.

Your hands slid lower in response, over the softness of his belly that he didn't bother to hide behind a girdle anymore. His time at sea had been good to him—the mix of more physical work paired with Ford's insistence on healthier cooking serving to slim his waistline and bulk his already thick muscles even more. You liked the persistent pudge that remained, though, and held no shame in your appreciation.

“In fact...” you smirked a little wider against his lips, trailing your hands down even lower to finger his belt buckle. “I'd say you look good enough to eat.”

He picked up on your meaning immediately, his soft, breathy little moan of enthusiasm making you smile.

“Sit back, honey,” you told him, and he obeyed without a moment's hesitation, settling himself more comfortably against the desk as you undid his belt. The fastenings yielded easily to your practiced fingers, the zipper giving a quiet little buzz as it was tugged down, and you glanced up from the task only when you felt Stan's hands pet over your head.

A wink as you pushed up the hem of his shirt left him blushing, his lips slightly parted, his eyes intently focused solely on you. For all his bluster, Stan always seemed astounded that you wanted to do with with him, no matter how many times you proved to him how much you enjoyed it.

You returned your gaze downward, leaning forward again to kiss his abdomen affectionately, his ample body hair pleasantly scratchy against your lips. At the same time, your hand dipped into his pants, getting under the elastic of his boxers with little trouble to palm his cock. He wasn't hard just yet, but if the twitch of his hips was any indication, it wouldn't take him long to get there.

You didn’t waste any time teasing him; he may have joked about Wendy, but honestly she could be knocking on the door at any moment, telling him that there was a tour group rolling in that he had to attend to. So you drew him out of his pants, his hands stroking gently over your head again, followed by a shaky exhale when you leaned down and unhesitatingly took the tip of him into your mouth.

It was a strange kind of fun, working him up from completely soft to a full erection, using the opportunity of his flaccidity to take the whole length of him into your mouth without struggle. Stan seemed to agree, huffing out a quick breath when your nose rubbed against the coarse hair on his pelvis as you sucked, swallowing a few times just to hear him moan in surprised appreciation.

It wasn’t an action you could repeat for long, the hot flesh in your mouth getting thicker and stiffer by the second, but you enjoyed it while you could; angling your head a little to get as flush with him as possible, your hands coming up to frame his hips, a soft groan in the back of your throat.

“Shit,” you heard him curse in a whisper, his hands restlessly shifting over your shoulders, his thighs tensing. “Shit, yeah...”

You slid back with a wet sound when he got too big, rubbing your tongue over the head of his cock in a leisurely swirl before bobbing back down, his length already slippery from your mouth and his breath starting to speed up.

“You’re goddamn perfect at this,” he grunted, not the first time he had ever said so, but you relished in the compliment just the same. “Fuck... yeah, sweetheart, let me see you get messy.”

 _Dirty old man,_ you thought with amusement, sliding your hands up from his hips to the small of his back, scratching gently through the fabric of his shirt as you did as he requested; letting the saliva pool in your mouth, letting it get wet and messy as you bobbed your head, your lips tucked over your teeth and your tongue rubbing arrhythmically all over the thick length.

“That’s it,” he sighed, his massive hand cupping your cheek, his thumb flirting with the corner of your mouth and his fingertips tracing the shell of your ear, “that’s it baby, show me how much you love it.”

His voice was so breathlessly raspy, and you knew if you could see his face from this angle it’d be nothing but captivation. You knew because he sounded exactly the same when you rode him, your hands braced on his shoulders or chest, drinking in his attention and admiration like a wine.

The real kicker was that you _did_ love it, that wasn’t just him being high on pleasure and babbling dirty talk. You loved it, he knew it, and he loved that you loved it. It made it so easy to take him into the back of your mouth with a soft moan, slurping messily as you swallowed, pushing down as far as you felt safe doing as your fingers dug into his back.

“Shit,” he hissed, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your head, flirting with the idea of pulling you down harder onto him, you could feel it in the slight curl of his fingers against your skull. He wouldn't, not unless you told him to—he thankfully had pretty good restraint in that regard—but feeling how much he _wanted_ to was certainly a little thrill to your ego.

You pulled back a bit, just the tip of his fat glans between your lips, your tongue dancing an abstract pattern all over it. He shuddered with a little gasp, his back muscles tensing under your hands.

You smirked a little to yourself, sliding one hand from his back to wrap around his wet cock, using the adage of your palm to fully stimulate the entirety of him.

“Shit,” he cursed again. You could feel a bit of the dampness of sweat through his shirt, knew it for the signal it was that he was getting close.

So you squeezed your grip a little tighter around his dick, his heavy width taking almost your entire hand span, your mouth sucking hard with every quick downward push of your head.

“Fuck... fuck, baby, I'm gonna—” his panted warning abruptly cut off as you took him into the back of your mouth, tight little thrusts of your head rubbing the tip of his dick against the squeeze in the back of your throat.

He _did_ lose his restraint then, his heavy hands on your head pulling you forward in rough little bursts as his cum gushed into your mouth, the bitter-salty taste hurriedly swallowed with every pulse of his orgasm.

A particularly hard thrust made you gag, seeming to bring him at least partially back to his senses, his grip loosening and a breathless apology rushing from his lips. “Shit, sorry, sorry babydoll. Fuck.”

You forgave him of course, swallowing a few more times before slowly pulling back, giving a final little lick to his oversensitive glans that made him gasp and jerk.

“Nice way to burn twenty minutes, wouldn't you say?” you murmured, angling your head up to kiss his abdomen again with a soft hum.

He chuckled, still catching his breath and petting his hands lovingly over your hair and shoulders as he did so.

“Sure is.”

A sudden knock on the door made you both jump, and you were grateful as hell that it hadn't happened with Stanley's cock in your mouth.

“Yo Mr Pines, a tour bus just rolled up,” Wendy's voice came through the wood, sounding bored and uninterested. “I'll stall ‘em in the gift shop if I can but you might wanna get out here.”

“Yeah—uh—be right there!” Stan called back, looking flustered and quite pink in the face as he hastily reached down to fix his clothes.

You rolled the desk chair back with a sigh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Sorry,” he muttered with a disappointed frown, stuffing his shirt back into his trousers. “I hoped we'd have the time for me to return the favor.”

“It's all good,” you reassured him, leaning back in the chair and watching him redress. “You'll make it up to me.”

His crooked grin as he zipped up his pants and rebuckled his belt made your heart flutter a bit, doubly so when he stood and ducked down to give you a filthy kiss; rubbing his tongue against yours, curling it against the roof of your mouth with a salacious groan, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as his hand cupped your head.

“Goddamn right I will,” he promised, following the words with a softer peck against your mouth that did nothing to abate the squirmy heat that his deeper kiss had summoned between your legs.

“Go get ‘em tiger,” you sighed, rubbing his jaw with the backs of your fingers in encouragement, earning you Stan's wide smile.

“You know I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://guilty-pleasures-abound.tumblr.com)


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